To The Point
by Dancing Feather
Summary: What started out as a simple comment about someone's posterior grows into more... drama. :for STWW: Warning: Old people using email and no tact.
1. Because wit and French go together

Hetalia and Hidekaz Himaruya are my OTP. Horrible story telling, spelling and grammatical errors want to be corrected.

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**To The Point**

France looks down at the keyboard and ponders for a bit. What to write? He is French so it must be majestic, poetic. Fingers tapping lightly against the keyboard, he stared blankly at the new unwritten document, waiting for the inspiration to hit. Eventually, an idea sprinkles down on him and he types it up.

**Arthur, you _had_ a really nice ass.**

"...and send!" He giggles maliciously.


	2. Yes I'm seriously continuing this

He stared at the message. So simple, so blunt. He could ignore it, but he knew France wouldn't let this go. If he didn't bite this, surely France would make a larger, more tempting bait. He had to show he was in control. England hunched over his desk, he had to write something, something that meant he wasn't going to be childish about this. Something that would deter France from ever thinking he could get away with such stupid, insulting-

_To Whom this may Concern,_

**You fucking frog.**

Kirkland


	3. Francis makes his next move

France inwardly rejoiced at the sound of the reply. Reading it, he licked his lips and continued the internet banter.

**Ah, so you know how to use the internet! Do you want to join me for dinner? I promise no fucking frogs!**

_Signed your one and only love,_  
Bonnefoy


	4. Arthur amazes us with his words

**No.**

_You wish you disgusting flake,_  
Kirkland


	5. France tries another door

**Since you're on, shall we cyber instead?**

_Signed, the only person who is willing to fuck you at this day and age,_  
Bonnefoy


	6. It's locked

**I am NOT cybring with you!**

_Ha! You wish!_  
Kirland


	7. But only by denial

**What? Was the phone sex last week too strong for you?**

_Did you just misspell your own name? You poor dear._  
Bonnefoy


	8. The truth is revealed

**That wasn't phone sex, you idiot. You just left a filthy message on my answering machine. I hope you're happy I lost a good secretary that day.**

_Fuck you._  
KIRKLAND


	9. A little more than you wanted

**Aw, did I leave you unsatisfied? I'm sorry. I'll be sure to take 'the pill' before seeing you again, no?**

**I picked that girl up shortly after she left you. She is really good at what she does. I'm impressed England, she certainly knows how to 'file papers' if you know what I mean! But England, why pay for it when you could just come over my house?**

_I'm trying,_  
FRANCE


	10. A little more than England wanted too

**You bastard! She was not a prostitute! As soon as I figure this stupid thing out I'm banning you or whatever it's called.**

_Wtf is wrong with you,_  
ENGLAND


	11. France gives help

France rolled his eyes and responded without missing a beat. Austria would be proud.

**Right, she was just a secretary with benefits. That makes perfect sense.**

**Dear, you just click on my email and say it's spam.**

_I hunger for you,_  
République française

France briefly left the scene to get himself something to eat. Like a sausage slowly cut down from the middle.


	12. England doesn't recongize it

England chuckled reading the note. Like he would listen to France's advice! And _spam_? Why would any future technology name itself after such a 'meat' product? He was too old to fall for that trick!

**Nice try. Everyone fucking quotes Monty Python these days. It was funny the first 5000 times. I have other comedians you know!**

_Then starve_  
THE UNITED KINGDOM

England then braked for the kitchen. Starving made him hungry.


	13. The sad fact of things

France was starting to wonder if it was that time of the month.

**Relax, no one quotes my comedians.**

_(The United Kingdom, which you are only part of) So is Scotland supplying your thirst?_  
France the Greatest


	14. The sadder fact of things

**Maybe because you aren't funny.**

_Ew. Gross. No. I'm responsible for the UK!_  
ENGLAND THE EVEN GREATER


	15. French sarcasm

**No, I'm not funny at all. That's why a lot of my shows and movies get redone or "Hollywooded" whatever they call it.**

_Only because you bullied Wales. Scotland just decided to amuse you,_  
France/England for ever!

France then decided to search if Hollywooded was a word.


	16. England would make a wonderful critique

**America has never shown to have great taste.**

_I never know what those freaks are thinking. Get a grip. Geographically it's me topping you._  
England/France (if it EVER happened)


	17. More geographic jokes

**Really? I just think he's too spicy for you.**

_Lol, England, that's the only thing topping me,_  
France/England (oh, it's happened)


	18. England's natural reaction

**What's that suppose to mean??**

_Maybe you're holding the fucking globe upside down,_  
England/Nobody else (Not anymore!)


	19. French determination

**Exactly what I said. Am I still taking you to dinner or have you changed your mind?**

_Maybe you forgot there is no up and down in space,_  
So much for the UK (You mean not right now)


	20. No! I mean, yes?

England's first natural reaction to the offer, like all offers, was negative. But as he was about to click the send button, a thought came to mind-

**You're damn right I'm taking that offer. I can't punch you in the face here.**

_You are paying for the meal,_  
ENGLAND

It was hardly subtle, but England thought if France couldn't catch this foreshadowing there was no helping him.


	21. THIS

But as France could say, there was no helping either of them.

**Well that's settled! When shall we meet? How about Les Papilles?**

_Small price to pay to see your wonderful smiling face!_  
France

France then dove into his closet. He couldn't decide what to wear, something England would find flattering or something with real taste?


	22. IS

Meet him in France? England scoffed, he was not punching Francis in French territory! His boss would be screaming for months... or commending him. He actually wasn't sure which.

**No. We'll meet at The Ritz. If they are still open at this hour.**

_I assure you if I am smiling, you yourself will not shortly,_  
England

England found it strange he rather would not take the chance. After pressing send, he strode into his closet. Knowing full well he had nothing that would make the Frenchman openly admit to fine fashion, he decided to go for something casual. As in, what seemed to be casual for the womenfolk of London.

"This will tie his tongue for a few good hours." He sneered, grabbing his shaving gear and heading for the bathroom.


	23. The next chapter

Francis was in the shower when he heard his computer give that distinctive ding of a replied email. Throwing a towel around his shivering body and nearly tripping over his parrot, he read the words and frowned. Well, that changed his dressing plans. Sighing, his mildly dry hands slid to the keyboard-

**Very well then, see you soon!**

Because either way, if England was agreeing to actually see him in the first place it's best not to argue- that is, until you have him in a corner.


	24. A mild compromise

_What originally started as a cheap oneshot to cheer up a friend turned into one of my more stranger parodies. While my first intention was to make that one person smile it certainly was a wonderful plus that I have made others smile as well- not to mention a good lot of you made me laugh at your returning comments! Thank you very much, especially AzAx, Yume Dust, ellan54, bombayxprodigy, and especially Sexykill69... thank you for your continuous reviews!

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_

**Indirectly...**

The Ritz was still open, only the outdoor tables were unavailable due to the cold. Hardly deterred by the icy air, England stood outside leaning against the brick wall. His arms wrapped around his figure, rubbing at his upper arms. He was completely dressed, yes. Only his face was directly exposed to the grey weather. For a day that consisted of lazing around, his body heat laid low. Clouds were few, and the brightest lights came not from the stars in the sky, but passing cars.

_That bloody frog better arrive soon._

He groaned as he saw the dreaded figure appear from under the lamppost across the street. Francis did look as if he walked out of those men club magazines, light blue suit complete with an utterly gay stained window glass scarf tied around his neck.

_Well, at least the view isn't blinding._

"Bonsoir, England."

"You're late."

"Please forgive me," France dipped his head and chuckled, "it's been a while since I've been in this particular area. It's like an old book you reread, you remember the major details but the smaller things that connect them have blurred over time." Left hand disappearing into his inside breast pocket, he pulled out a single, slightly squashed rose and raised it to England's face. Arthur rose an eyebrow, but kept the rest of his face in check. He was not going to fall for Francis' little sweet gestures.

Again.

"Interesting attempt," he plucked the rose from Francis' hand, gave it a sniff and dropped it, "but it won't make up for your asinine comment from earlier." Both men watched as the flower hit the cement and lie there.

"Asinine, dear?" France cringed as he watched the rose crushed under England's... _heeled shoes_?

"Does the words, '_had_ a nice ass' ring any bells?" England returned his gaze from the abused plant back to France with a blink. France's gaze took a bit longer to make it's way back to England's eyes, to to the rest stops at the heels, leg warmers, pantyhose and skirt... "Hello? Planet to country?"

"...Is that a skirt?" France found himself saying before he could stop himself.

"No." England rolled his eyes before walking inside the restaurant. France cocked his head to get a better angle of Arthur's backside. Yes, Francis' eyes were not lying to him. It was indeed a skirt, and not just any skirt, a short skirt. As he followed Arthur inside, he wondered how tight those pantyhose were, and how long it would take to strip Arthur of them.

They sat at a table meant for two and were given menus. England held his up to block the view of Francis, while Francis did the same, sort of. France was not going to admit openingly that he was gawking at Arthur. "I was pleasantly surprised today when I discovered you had your own personal email." France started, occasionally glancing at his menu but never reading a word.

"I noticed." England turned a page, trying not to laugh as he slipped off his coat, scarf and hat and hung it behind his chair. The crinkling of paper was heard as France tightened his grip on his menu as his eyes got a little wider. England by physical attributes alone was not a feminine build. He was smaller, but the masculine traits were all there. Some places it was stronger like where his eyebrows grow, but somehow he was able to wear things that most men could not get away with. Such as: a choker, arm warmers and a _corset-_

Francis took a sip of water from his glass to prevent himself from coughing. No wonder England's posture was perfect tonight. Francis' eyes darted up and down the Englishman, drinking the outfit in. Back to the legs, the skirt, the neck, the thighs, he wondered what other tasty tidbits could also be concealed. The skirt was just long enough he couldn't tell what possible knickers laid beneath. Were they as black as the rest of the outfit? Licking his lips, France tried to do the impossible and unravel the knots he tightened from earlier.

"I've been really impressed with what your boss has been talking about, recently-"

"Nice try," England bit, but not as harshly as he wished because he was enjoying Francis' fidgeting too much, "but you aren't getting any of this."

"Oh good," France sighed, hiding his mental and physical cry of plight, "I thought you were trying to ruin my appetite." The air of amusement around England was starting to turn, Francis felt, into a danger zone, one capable of punching him in the face.

"Why the hell did you call me out to dinner." There was no question mark at the end of the sentence, because England didn't deliver it as such. _This whole week has been hell, just like the rest of this month. I'm tired of all of this repetitive trite. Say something that will make me feel otherwise, amuse me dammit... _was left unsaid as he rested his head against his gloved hand, staring lazily at France.

"I figured it would be a nice change of pace." France followed the gesture, if only to lean in as to get closer to the other across the table. "I thought paperwork was a strain compared to the old sword in the chest, but now that everything has gone digital I find that my eyes are being chewed away at a bright screen, never to see the outdoors that made me who I am ever again."

"And yet you still attempt to douse me in poetic explanations." Francis gave a slight frown as England sat back. "Fuck, we are getting old, aren't we?"

"We can only be as old as we feel, mon chérie. It has nothing to do with age or looks-" France gave a small jump as he felt England's heel pressing lightly into his groin.

"Are you saying I look old?" Arthur's hardened expression hadn't changed, but the eyes glinted at amusement.

"Ah, not at all!" France tried backing into his chair to release some of the pressure but as he did so England pressed his leg in further, even sliding the seven centimeters under France. "Dear, if you look old I must make women weep at the sight of this old frog." Feeling his pants tightening, Francis decided to give up the suave act and let his right right slide under the table, and then under the leg warmer to stroke Arthur's ankle. To his relief, England's leg relaxed and pulled a few centimeters back.

"So we are both ugly?" England sat back in the chair, enjoying the foot treatment despite the fact he was quite sure France was unstrapping the shoe to remove the impending threat.

"Hardly." France let the shoe drop loudly with no shame attached. Now that the immediate danger was gone, he pulled the leg closer to him. "To say you are ugly is to say I'm unattractive, and that's hardly true, is it?" Arthur grinned as he rubbed his foot onto the tightened trousers-

"E-excuse me?" Pipped the waitress, who looked so red in the face it appeared that she may pass out at any moment. Arthur immediately claimed his foot back.

"Oh, orders?" Francis said as if there was no problem.

"Um, no." She tried to speak louder than a whisper, but embarrassment prevented her from doing so. "I'm here to t-tell you that if you won't stop this behaviour, you will have to leave." France laughed as England quickly redressed himself, reclaiming his heel and jamming his cap on tightly so no one could get a better look at his face. _Damn Francis, damn this place and damn me! I can't believe I just... augh!_

"Then please excuse us!" France bowed to the girl before wrapping his right arm around England. "Let us go dear!"

"Get your hands off of me!" Arthur at this point was starting to blush as badly as the waitress. Pushing France away England fled out the door and into the streets. Giving the young woman a wink and his card, France shortly joined England at the front.

"You are so cute!" He laughed as he wrapped his arms around the grouchy Englishman from behind. Arthur stiffened, but eventually leaned into Francis.

"You are so stupid." He mumbled, shifting to make sure France's hands stayed at his waist and nowhere else. "Your place or mine?"

"Quoi?" France began to nuzzle in between England's scarf and neck, pressing warm kisses up and down the neckline.

"God, you're thick." Arthur crossed his arms, pretending to not be affected by the touching. Even turning his head so France would not see his face as his eyelids fluttered. "For now on, every comment I hear that sounds anything like the trash you had been sending me earlier today we will walk closer to the Thames until I have you drowning in it."

"So harsh..." France slipped a hand under Arthur's coat and began tugging at the buckles. "but England, I cannot give adequate praise of your body while making love to it at the same time!"

"Keep talking like that," England pulled France's hand out from his coat and nipped it, "and maybe we will get somewhere."

"If that is what it takes," France brushed England's cheek with his lips, "I think that is a price worth paying." As England noticed they had starting walking into Green Park, it did not feel so cold anymore. In fact, it was the perfect temperature to offset the heat rising between them.

"_If this is a blessing, it is certainly very well disguised."_ ~Winston Churchill

**...To The Point**


End file.
